


Slow it Down

by somethingofatrainwreck



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingofatrainwreck/pseuds/somethingofatrainwreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke gets really affectionate when she’s tired and it isn’t in Bellamy’s nature to just walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They’re late.   
They are extremely fucking late and Bellamy knows exactly what he’s walking into when they finally arrive at the gates.  
A six hour scouting trip had turned into a two day nightmare all because Bellamy had let some kid with a bad hairline do the tracking instead of the Spacewalker. Turns out he needed that fucking idiot more than he’d ever admit. Now he had eight of his best men, exhausted, annoyed, and probably unwilling to ever volunteer for a scouting mission again. He could still hear them complain even as they entered camp. Of course their gripes would be nothing compared to what he knew he was in store for. Octavia would be livid. 

He’d promised her he’d be back by nightfall. She probably thought he was dead. He’d be fucking furious if it were the other way around. It doesn’t surprise him when the first thing she does when she sees him is tell him he’s a selfish asshole and then hug him like he’ll float away into the sky without her weighing him down (sometimes he thinks he might). What does surprise him is that the Princess hasn’t managed to make it down to join their welcoming party. He figured she’d stomp over to him and demand to know what had happened, what they had found, why it took so long. Then she’d tell him he was an idiot for poor planning and wasting resources, and not including her precious Finn when he knows the kid is the best tracker they have. He’s far too fucking tired to argue with her so part of him is glad she isn’t around, but there’s another part of him (the part that clings to the little bit of normalcy they’ve created) that can’t keep the words from slipping out of his mouth. 

“Where’s Clarke?”

Octavia breaks away from the hug and gives him this look. He has no idea what it means really, sometimes he thinks she’s pitying him, other times he remembers that Octavia has more experience with dust than human beings so it’s probably her attempt at empathy.

“She’s in the drop ship,” she sighs, “She’s been running around here like a fucking mad woman for the last two days. She hasn’t slept, she’s barely eaten, she’s been breathing down everyone’s necks, scrubbing the med bay every couple of hours. Monty was seriously considering strapping her down and slipping her something to make her pass out.”

Bellamy shoulders the gun he’d been leaning on and turns towards the drop ship “What’s wrong with her?”

“Besides the fact that she’s crazy? I don’t know, she was worried about you guys, but we all were. She said a lot was riding on this scouting mission. She was nervous that something went wrong. That tends to happen when you leave for a few hours and don’t come back for two fucking days.”

“Look O, I’m sorry. You’re pissed, I get it. I’ll tell you the whole story, but first I have to deal with her.”

Octavia nods her head and starts walking backwards in the direction she knows he’s going to start heading. “She may have finally fallen asleep by now, or she’ll rip your head off the second you walk in, either way I’m all for seeing the end of this psychotic episode.”

Bellamy almost wants to defend Clarke, because no one else in camp understands what it feels like to be the ones everyone looks too. Clarke spends most of her time worrying about everyone around her. The only reason she hadn’t been on the scouting mission herself was because Bellamy convinced her that it was more practical for at least one of them to stay back. You never know what can happen down here. We don’t want to leave them to fend for themselves not when we’re finally starting to get our shit together. We can’t risk them losing both of us. And then he had gone and disappeared for two days. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d thought she was gone and he was picking up the full weight of their responsibility.

He notices that most of the kids are keeping their distance from the drop ship. Clarke really must have been in rare form. Octavia is talking while they walk, telling him that she had successfully stitched up a kid’s hand all by herself after Clarke had gotten so frustrated at her inability to thread the needle with shaking hands that she’d had to go outside to calm down. “I’ve never seen her like that.” She says as they make their way into the drop ship “I mean she did apologize, she said it was sleep deprivation but goddamn am I glad that you’re back…. You know, for a lot of reasons.” She beams at him, and he ruffles her hair. 

“Oh Bellamy thank god!” Monty appears in front of him with his hands covered in blood.

“Monty whose blood is that?” Octavia demands.

“It’s Clarke’s but…”

Bellamy pushes past him and moves into the med bay where he could see the back of Clarke’s head sitting on one of their make shift examination tables. She was holding her left arm in the air, her hand wrapped heavily in bandages, but even in the few steps it took for him to get to her he could see her start to collapse onto her side and then pull herself back up.

“Clarke,” he says as he steps in front of her. She’s pale and her eyes are bloodshot. She looks horrible, like she hasn’t slept in a month. She gazes up at him and manages a small glare. He finds that he’s almost relieved. 

“Oh, you’ve decided to come back.” She slurs “I’ll be back by sundown my fucking ass.”

He raises his eyebrows because it’s unusual for her to curse so causally, but he knows that he owes her some form of an apology or an explanation. He just can’t get over how dead on her feet she looks. 

“You look like shit princess.”

“You smell like it.”

“What happened to your hand?”

“Accident, what happened to your scouting party?”

“Got lost.”

She makes a noise that sounds something like a snort, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t have the energy to argue with him. “Well good, you’re back so I can sleep.”

“Waiting for my permission?”

She doesn’t notice his smirk because she’s already lying back on the exam table. Octavia steps forward cautiously. “Clarke why don’t you go back to your tent so you’re not in the way- I mean so people don’t bother you.”

Clarke grunts and tries to sit back up. She looks around like the room is spinning until her eyes fall on Bellamy, then she extends her arm in his direction. “Come on, you walk with me, tell me what the hell happened.”

He agrees, but he has no intentions of telling her anything. Mostly he just wants to make sure she makes it back to the right tent. He’s not even sure her eyes are totally open judging by the way she keeps walking diagonally. She shakes him off every time he tries to guide her, but he does notice that the last time she keeps her hand wrapped around his. He thinks maybe she’s just too stubborn to admit she needs help, but something in the way she’s holding on reminds him of the way Octavia hugged him at the gate. She doesn’t want him to float away either (and she’s definitely one to keep his feet on the ground.) 

She falls straight into her bed when they arrive. He watches her without it being creepy because she’s still mumbling to him like they had actually been having a coherent conversation.

“I thought you were dead,” she says mostly into her pillow. “I thought you had left me to do this by myself.”

“Not gonna get rid of me that easy Princess.”

“I don’t like it Bellamy. I don’t like worrying about someone like that.”

“I wasn’t planning on being gone so long. Next time don’t worry so much, I always find my way back here.”

“What if one time you don’t?”

“You’d be fine.”

He hears the echo of her “I need you” that played over and over in his head. He wonders if she’ll say it again. Instead she reaches her injured arm into the air like she had done in the drop ship.

“What?” he asks with a laugh, because she looks ridiculous. She’ll be pissed in the morning when she realizes how many bandages Monty wasted in his slack-ass attempt to wrap whatever wound she’d inflicted upon herself. She doesn't answer him, merely shakes her arm back and forth until he walks closer and grabs it. She intertwines their fingers and sighs. He feels like he’s walked into some freaky alternate universe where Clarke Griffin can actually stand him.

“You always have to come back.” She says.

“I will.” It’s a stupid promise to make, but her fingers fit perfectly in his so what else is he going to say?

“Good.” He has to take a few steps towards her when she brings their hands down and cradles them against her chest. “You can stay if you want, until morning.”

He can feel her breath on the back of his hand. It’s warm and her skin is soft and crawling into the bed next to her seems like the best idea he could have ever come up with until he realizes that it’s the exact opposite. This is by far the most physical contact he’d ever had with Clarke. He’d never taken her for the cuddly type…of course he’d never taken himself for the cuddly type either but here he is thinking about wrapping himself around Clarke Griffin, fully clothed and tired as hell, just so he doesn't have to let go of her hand. But they aren't like that. They've finally gotten to be something akin to friends and somehow this feels like taking advantage of her. He takes his hand away slowly and he sees a frown appear on her face, even though her eyes have closed and her breathing has evened out. 

He needs to leave now, needs to breathe different air and remember who she is to him, his co-leader. So he turns on his heel and walks out of his tent. His hand feels irritatingly cold the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Jasper finds him leaning against the wall listening to Miller explain the new guard rotation. 

“Bellamy,” he says and he looks a bit terrified so Bellamy knows whatever it is it’s going to piss him off. “We need your help.”

“Why?”

“It’s Clarke.”

He kicks off the wall and follows Jasper all the way to the drop ship where he finds a nervous Monty and an irritated Octavia arguing over a semi-conscious Clarke. 

“What the fuck happened?” He sees that they aren’t panicking and there’s no blood so he tries to mask the dread and concern with anger. Judging by the way Monty jumps it works.

“I’ve been working with a few herbs we found growing outside the wall, trying to make an anesthesia that works better than moonshine and Clarke…well she wanted to try it.”  
“What?”

“She...she wanted to try it first to make sure it was safe and I…didn’t stop her in time I guess. I don’t know! It all happened so fast!”

“This is a nightmare.” Octavia says with a shake of her head before she turns around and starts trying to wake Clarke.

“So you’re telling me that you experimented on our only doctor?!”

“She’s okay Bell,” Octavia says “all her vitals are fine, she’s just sleeping.”

“Well thank God for that, otherwise I’d be hanging you two over the wall by your fucking feet!”

“Me?!” Jasper yells “I didn’t do anything!”

“Come on Bellamy, you know Clarke! When she sets her mind on something you can’t stop her. She wanted to make sure it was safe.”

“I don’t care! Next time she decides to pull some life threatening bullshit for the greater good, you hold her down and come get me!”

“We did come get you!”

“AFTER SHE’D ALREADY FUCKING PASSED OUT!”

Apparently Monty’s “special tea” wasn’t strong enough to drown out the sounds of Bellamy’s screams echoing around the room. Clarke begins to stir, Monty rushes to her side with a giant sigh of relief.

“Hey Clarke! Hey, wake up now. I need you to tell Bellamy that you’re okay. You’re okay right?”

“Of course I’m okay.” She says in a strange voice that doesn’t even sound like her own “You did it Monty, you are such a smart little man.”

Monty’s eyebrows crease, he was probably considering whether to be offended, and then Clarke grabs his arm and pulls him down to hug her. Bellamy tells himself that he pries them apart so he can see for himself that Clarke is okay and get back to everything he was supposed to be doing that afternoon, and sure that’s a great reason and all, but there’s a selfish, childish part of him that wants to put himself close enough so she’d grab onto him. It was nice to get reminders that Clarke was still alive and breathing by his side (reminders other than the daily arguments and constant disagreement). 

“Clarke what the hell were you thinking?”

“Oh God Bellamy your voice. I just can’t right now….could you just take it down please.”

“Clarke….”

“I’m okay. I’m just taking a while to wake up…perfectly normal.”

“And what if you would have poisoned yourself? What then?”

Clarke raises her eyebrows and pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to prevent the progression of a headache. “Stop being so dramatic. I can’t even see straight right now.”

Bellamy finds it a bit disturbing how quickly he becomes annoyed with her. He knows it would be wrong to yell at her when she’s like this, when she barely knows where she is, but he can’t stop it.

“Everyone out.” He says.

“Bell…” Octavia gives him a warning look, but he glares back until she takes the hint and drags Jasper and Monty with her.

Bellamy takes a deep breath and sets his hands on Clarke’s table, leaning forward and dropping his head to stare at the floor. “I cannot believe you would risk killing yourself like this.”

She doesn’t answer him. He thinks maybe she’s fallen back asleep but when he looks up she’s staring at him. Her eyes are still blue but they look vacant, like she hasn’t really come back to herself. “You’re far away.” She says.

He rolls his eyes, “This is ridiculous Clarke,” but he steps closer anyway, and he certainly doesn’t say anything when she reaches one of her hands up and touches the side of his face, brushing his hair away from his forehead. Of course he’s trying not to think about how comforting the gesture is because that’s just stupid. He does wonder if she’s having some sort of trippy vision, maybe his hair is turning different colors or his face is spinning around. She’s looking at him the way she looks at her drawings when she thinks no one can see her. She’s looking at him like she knows he has some deep confession to make, like she knows there’s something in him that she’s missed and well…..she’s not wrong.

“You and Octavia,” she says “you’re so beautiful.”

He knows she’s not fishing for compliments so he doesn’t know what to say to that. He should go back to yelling at her, but she’s starting to smile now and her hand is playing with his ear and he has to make a conscious effort not to close his eyes. “Even when you yell at me you’re beautiful.”

“Clarke…”

“I don’t mean beautiful like a girl, Your eyes are strong.”

He sighs. Her hand slides down his face again. Her thumb traces his bottom lip and that should be his cue to leave; but he doesn’t want to break eye contact with her because goddamn he spends too much time wondering about this woman and she never looks at him the way she is now. So instead he lets his lips part slightly, kissing her thumb so gently that he could deny that it ever happened if he wanted to. She seems satisfied. Her hand moves away and ends up running down his arm before she lays it back down at her side.

“I’m still very tired.”

“Well that’s what happens when you drug yourself.”

“It worked though.”

“Princess, don’t….don’t ever do something so stupid again alright? You’ve managed to make it through battles and viruses and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna lose you to a science experiment.”

She closes her eyes “You don’t understand.”

“You? No I don’t.” he laughs and she pats his other hand.

“Stop worrying so much Bellamy.”

He coughs loudly “Excuse me while I choke on the hypocrisy.”

She laughs but keeps her eyes closed “I like you Bellamy Blake.” she says in something a little less than a whisper.

He swears he can feel her thumb against his lips again. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying Clarke.”

“I couldn’t say it if I didn’t think it. Don’t you know how a brain works?”

No, not really because his has only been semi-functional for the duration of this conversation. He wants to tell her that he likes her too, that’s she’s grown on him, maybe even that he needs her the same way she claimed she needed him, but Octavia pokes her head in and clears her throat.

“Miller needs you.”

When he looks back at Clarke she’s breathing deeply, her eyes totally shut. He pushes himself away from the table and tries to look angry again. Maybe putting the fear of God in Monty will be enough to push that encounter to the back of his mind so he can function the rest of the day. Or maybe he wishes he was lying down on that exam table next to her and he is seriously and royally fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

He had heard it when it happened.

Their voices had echoed all throughout camp. He didn’t even know that Spacewalker could be that loud. He had assumed that there was an issue between he and Raven, until he spotted her running across camp in the direction of the screaming. He knew then that it was Clarke, it had to be. He started to recognize the fury in her voice from the few times it had been directed at him. Before he could rush over and stop it there was silence. Someone had gotten there first and that was probably for the best because he didn’t know how he would handle seeing someone screaming in Clarke’s face, especially Spacewalker. 

He tells himself that Clarke is probably fine and he’ll check in on her later, and then a beam of the wall starts to collapse and there’s five hours of rushing around, trying to support it with more wood, trying to find decent wood without cutting down more trees. By the time the situation is solved (not really solved but supported enough until they could deal with it the next day) the sun has long been set. They’d been working by firelight, Miller keeping him updated on the rest of camp. He dismisses the rest of the kids just as Miller approaches him with a handful of berries and a jar of water. 

“It couldn’t have given out this morning when we’d have had the whole day to fix it?” he says with a shake of his head.

“Of course not. I don’t even think I’m gonna be able to sleep knowing there’s a weak spot like this. I’m half tempted to stay here….”

“Don’t worry about it. We have regular guard schedules and I’ll make sure we’re careful with this area.”

“Makes me nervous.”

“I know, but man you’re gonna be totally worthless tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep.”

Bellamy shoots him a look, like he should apologize for calling him worthless in any capacity, but Miller just laughs and shrugs it off like he usually does. 

“So what the fuck was going on earlier?” Bellamy asks as he finishes his dinner. Miller rolls his eyes.

“Drama. Finn started preaching to Clarke about your little “shoot first ask questions later” speech this morning when that kid asked about perimeter checks. Clarke told him she didn’t want to hear it and he started telling her she’d changed and you had corrupted her or some shit. I don’t know but she freaked out. She started bringing up shit that no one needed to know, Raven got involved, Finn said a lot of really fucked up stuff that I’m sure he’ll try to apologize for tomorrow. It was Octavia that stopped it. She pushed Finn back and threatened him within an inch of his life so Clarke had time to get away. It was better than my plan. I was thinking about shooting him.”

He’s smiling, so Bellamy knows he’s joking but there’s a darker part of him that almost wishes that he wasn’t. Bellamy doesn’t have much patience when it comes to Finn Collins, he never has and he probably never will. He stands up and brushes off his pants, Miller follows. 

“I guess I should go check on her. I have to tell her about the wall anyway.” He starts to walk away and Miller calls out to him.

“Maybe wait to mention the wall until tomorrow?” he says.

Bellamy nods, but he knows now how upset Clarke must have looked for Miller to say that. He’s trying to remember where Spacewalker’s tent is, he’s moved it since he and Raven were on and off.... and on..... and probably back off again. It wouldn’t take him long to stop off and smack him around a bit. The kid certainly deserves it. If he had a problem with Bellamy’s ideas, (which he always did…seriously…always) than he should have come and screamed at Bellamy. It was more than that though, Finn hated that Clarke trusted Bellamy because it forced him to accept the fact that he had lost her trust. He wanted Bellamy to be the enemy so he could go back to being the hero. Bellamy didn’t give much thought to the fairytale bullshit, but he did know that you had to be a complete idiot to think that Clarke Griffin could be a rebound girl.

Before he could really act on impulse and pay Finn a visit, he found himself standing outside of Clarke’s tent. It was dark. He could hear her breathing. It was obvious that she was asleep, that he should leave, but he knew deep down he had no intentions of going to sleep that night without visual confirmation that Clarke was okay, even if all she had suffered through was an intense screaming match with her ex. 

“Clarke.” He calls out as he approaches her bed “Princess.”

She jerks awake and starts frantically looking under her pillow for a knife that Bellamy can see lying on the floor just out of arm’s reach.

“Relax, it’s just me.” He sinks down onto the side of her cot and she must recognize his voice because she calms down.

“What happened?” she mumbles “What’s wrong?”

He thinks about telling her about the wall for a second, just so he has someone else to share his fears with, but then he remembers the look on Millers face and he finds himself reaching out for her hand in the darkness. She takes it without hesitation.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard about what happened today.”

She yawns and squeezes his hand. “I’ll be okay. I wanted to sleep off the anger.”

He laughs “Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s a tired sort of sigh and a mumbled no, but she pulls him closer to her and starts to lay back. He can take a hint, and even though he’s been fighting this closeness with her he’s had a fucking terrible day and he’s too exhausted to talk himself out of it (and really what harm can it do?). So he lays back against the lumps of fabric she calls pillows and Clarke leans her head on his shoulder. She nudges his chest with her nose until he wraps his arms around her. 

“Talk.” He finally says before she can fall asleep, and because he needs something to distract himself from how much he wants this.

He feels her take a deep breath “Finn believes that I’ve changed. He thinks I’ve given you free reign and stopped fighting for what’s right.”

“He’s too afraid to come to me, so he takes his bullshit out on you.”

“It’s more than that. He hates that we’re a team, he hates that I trust you. He accused me of…” she gets silent and buries her head in his chest.

“What?”

“He said I’d stopped making decisions for myself because I didn’t want to lose my spot in your bed.”

Well Miller failed to mention that part.

“What a fucking moron.” He said. “he’s jealous Princess. He doesn’t want to face what he did to you so….”

“How do you know what he did to me?”

“Raven and I…talked.”

Her head shot up “That means you slept with her doesn’t it?”

He nodded “Yeah, but that was all it was. She wanted to use me and I let her.”

“Finn used me and it’s embarrassing.”

“Why is it embarrassing?”

“Because it is. It makes me feel weak. Everyone knows about it by now and….”

“Clarke, they respect you. I respect you, and nothing Spacewalker says or does is going to change that.”

“He wants me to believe that he loves me but I just…can’t not when looking at him reminds me of weakness and lies and how ridiculously stupid I can be. It’s frustrating, it’s so fucking frustrating and I seriously don’t even want to deal with it anymore.”

She grips him a little tighter and she may or may not be crying. He hates the thought of that. It’s one thing to see her angry or annoyed but thinking about Clarke crying makes him feel physically weak. She’s a walking fucking beacon of hope, invaluable to every person in this camp and goddamn Finn Collins for making her feel like anything less….(he’s slowly starting to notice that he’s becoming almost as dramatic as Octavia, but hey….call it passion).

“Clarke,” he shuffles down a bit so he can be at eye level with her “you’re better than this. You’re so much better than crying over Finn Collins- no listen to me,” he grabs her face when she tries to pull away “You’re better than this. What happened happened, you can’t change it but you didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know if what you two had was love, it doesn’t matter now. You get to decide who you want to be and who you want to be with, Spacewalker doesn’t have anything to do with that. I don’t give a fuck what he says. He shouldn’t be trying to make you doubt yourself. You are better than these,” he wipes her tears away “and better than that. Next time he comes up to you and starts running his mouth, you send him my way.”

“I can fight my own battles.” She rolls her eyes but she also lays her head in the crook of his neck. He can feel the wetness on her face, stubborn tears born of frustration and vulnerability, completely un-Clarke-like and wrong. God, Finn needs a good kick to the head.

“I know you can, but you don’t have too. We’re a team remember?”

She laughs “I’m sorry I cried on you.”

“Believe it or not it’s not the first time I’ve been cried on.”

“I shouldn’t let him get me so upset. It probably doesn’t look good when one of your leaders has a mental breakdown in the middle of camp.”

“You’re allowed a moment of weakness Clarke. He instigated you and I guarantee everyone who saw it knows that.”

“You know, every once in a while you’re kind of wonderful Bellamy Blake. I don’t understand how people like Finn can’t see that.”

He freezes. He can’t see her face, but somehow he knows her eyes are closed. Her arms are wrapped around his waist and she’s breathing on his neck and he is on fucking fire. Seriously, now that she’s stopped crying he realizes how stupid it was to do this because all he wants to do now is make her smile and he should be focused on extracting himself from the situation before he does damage that can’t be undone. “Sometimes you say things Clarke and I…” he takes a deep breath and laughs to himself “I swear I don’t get you.”

“Yes you do.” She says “You and I, we understand each other. That’s why you’re here. Because you know I needed someone to talk to and I’m sure there’s something you need to talk about. We share each other’s burdens. That’s just how this works. I accepted that months ago.”

“I don’t know what the hell I would have done if you hadn’t been on that drop ship.” He says as he pulls her closer.

“Whatever the hell you wanted.”

It’s not funny really, that whole thing was horrible, but he laughs anyway because Clarke believes in second chances and she wants him to know that whole thing is okay, even if he knows it isn’t. She won’t see him as a monster, and he’ll be damned if he ever does anything to make her see him that way. He’s overcome with the urge to tell her the truth. To stop worrying about what could happen and tell her exactly what he’s thinking, even if she is half asleep and sad, because he wants her to smile. She deserves to smile, even here in their disaster of a camp with one broken wall while they struggle to prepare for a winter that will probably kill them, if a hostile tribe of possibly radiation exposed humans doesn’t do so first.

He slides down even further, his feet essentially hanging off of her cot, so that he can press his forehead against hers. Her cheeks are finally dry again and her eyelashes flutter open just as he closes his. “Listen to me Princess, cause I’m only going to say this once, there is nothing in this world you can’t come to me for okay? I’ll always listen. I know we’ve never really considered each other friends and I don’t give a fuck. I’m in this with you, I rely on you, I trust you, and I need you to feel the same way about me.”

“I do.” She says quietly.

“And I don’t ever want to see you cry over the bullshit that comes out of Finn’s mouth again.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ve got too much to worry about, I need you focusing on what’s important.”

“Surviving?”

“Surviving.”

It’s strange the way it happens, because they must have been getting closer to each other without him even really noticing it. His lips brush hers when he answers her and then she leans forward. He’s never kissed someone so slowly before, and without the urge to move his mouth or his hands to other places. He just wants to feel her smile , so he bites her bottom lip just a bit, and she does. And then he’s grinning, because he can’t even remember what part of the wall is fucked up and Clarke smells like wildflower patch close to where they hunt boar. Her arms are strong as she pulls him closer to her, laughing into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and rolls himself on top of her. She fits perfectly and his elbow doesn’t even start to fall asleep despite the fact that he’s putting all of his weight on it. When she finally pulls away to catch her breath, she looks like the weight of the world has been pushed off of her shoulders…and that’s always been what they’re about hasn’t it? Knowing that neither would ever be on their own. He kisses both of her cheeks and finds her hands so he can intertwine their fingers. 

“No more crying.” He whispers (he’s only mildly surprised at how fucking affectionate he’s being because…hello, long time coming)

She nods and a yawn escapes her lips. He takes that as his cue to roll off of her, but she doesn’t let him go far. Her arms clamp back around him and she tucks herself into his chest. He’s such a strange combination of turned on and emotional that he closes his eyes tight to try to put things back into perspective. This thing with Clarke is different, and while he does want to make her scream his name as loud as she screamed at Finn to go fuck himself , he wants more than anything for her to always feel comfortable tucked up against him like she is in that moment. This thing…these feelings….they’ve been slowly spiraling out of his control for weeks and maybe that’s okay, or maybe it’s a disaster. He’s more surprised than anyone , but honestly Clarke makes him better, she knows him, she gets it. 

He kisses her forehead and she sighs in her sleep and holds onto him tighter. He lets himself stay that night, because he wants her to know that he’ll always be there, that this Bellamy Blake isn’t going to disappear when the sun comes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Keep in mind that this was written a while ago, so the mild Finn-bashing in this chapter is aimed at season 1 preachy Finn not season 2 Finn with a body count and an identity crisis. Hope you're still enjoying this! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes he really hates living with a bunch of teenagers. 

It’s unbelievable how dramatic they can be. And of course he, like an idiot, always believes their rumors and their panicky stuttering. So when he overhears some girl….who is named after a flower he thinks, complaining about getting a busted knee stitched up by Octavia (who does have really terrible bedside manner) because Clarke has quarantined herself in her tent and “must be about to die or some shit” he almost loses his fucking mind. 

By now these kids know how he is. They might not actually know him, but they do know how he is and that’s probably why they all dart out of his way as he stalks across camp and stands outside of the drop ship with his hands on his hips. He yells his sister's name until she comes out, and she’s furious when she does because being in charge doesn’t mean he can’t climb a fucking ladder and come talk to her in an inside voice.

“Clarke has quarantined herself?” he asks.

She looks at him like he’s grown two heads “Uh, yeah. That’s what we’re supposed to do when we get sick. Honestly Bell don’t you listen when she talks? It seems like lately you’ve been too busy staring…”

“Don’t you think the co-leader of this camp being sick is something I should know about?”

“Hey, don’t start screaming at me. If you have a problem take it up with Clarke.”

“This is so fucking typical.”

“If you would just calm the hell down, Raven was about to go check on her in a few minutes, give her some water and see if her fever is down and all. I’ll send Jasper with an update…”

“No, I’ll do it.” He says it so quickly that Octavia’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“What is it with you two? Did you fuck or something?”

“O, just don’t.”

“No I’m serious Bellamy. You’ve been acting crazy. Both of you have. Monty said it was pent up sexual tension and I laughed in his face but honestly…”

“Is there some kind of medicine or some shit I can take her?”

“Awee, are you worried about your girl Bell?”

“Am I worried about the person that takes half of the responsibilities of this camp off of my shoulders? Yeah I am.”

“Yeah, okay that’s all it is.”

“Octavia, what does she need?”

Five minutes later he’s standing outside of Clarke’s tent where she’s had someone crudely carve ‘quarantine do not enter’ on a piece of wood. He kicks it over out of spite as he marches through the flap. Clarke is sprawled out on her bed in her underwear. It’s so hot in there he knows she has a fever, but he figures maybe she was lucky enough to break it (he also knows that he should be concerned about catching whatever it is she has…..but somehow he’s not). She seems to be out cold, and it’s horrible that he has to seriously resist the temptation to crawl into the bed just so he can wake up next to her again. They’ve shared a bed a few times since the night after her brawl with Finn, but it’s been very platonic. They silently agreed that whatever happened that night happened because they just needed it. There was no reason to talk about it. Did that annoy Bellamy? Of course it did, but he wasn’t going to push Clarke. 

They could be partners without having a romantic relationship. Really, that was fine with him, except for the hundred or so times a day when he gets distracted by the sound of her laugh or a particularly cloudless sky that seems like the same color her eyes are. He seriously can’t believe it’s come to this. They’re trying to make a functional society out of a bunch of horny rambunctious teenage delinquents, how the fuck can they get anything done if he starts acting like one himself? So as of late he’s decided to put an extra bit of distance between himself and Clarke. When she does get in one of those moods, when her eyes start to droop and she tries to wrap her arms around his neck, he usually has a pre-prepared escape plan. The problem is that whole thing isn’t working for shit.

She’s at his side almost constantly every day, but he still misses her.

“Rise and shine Princess.” He says as loud as he can.

Her eyes flutter open, and panic flashes through them like it usually does when he calls for her out of nowhere.

“What’s…”

“What’s wrong is that I hear around camp that our doctor has quarantined herself.”

She shakes her head and sits up “That’s a bit of an over exaggeration. I thought I had a cold. I didn’t want to start an epidemic and make the next few days hell for myself.”

“There’s a sign outside of your tent Clarke….or there was.”

She rolls her eyes “Why are you here anyway? Just to yell at me for being cautious?”

“I’m not yelling at you for being cautious. I’m yelling at you for not telling me. You know how you make me tell you everything that was said in every fucking conversation I have all day? Yeah, that goes both ways. If I have to describe in detail Monroe’s progress in archery training and Miller’s crush on Raven than you have to at least tell me when you’re sick.”

“Did Miller talk to her yet?”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Oh stop Bellamy. It’s not a big deal, you had other things to worry about.”

He stares at her “I swear to God it’s like talking to a fucking wall with you.”

She mumbles her agreement, which is really her way of saying ‘I’m not in the mood to argue with you go yell at someone else.’

“I should probably get up,” she says, but he steps in front of her so she can’t stand up from the bed.

“Take the day off, we can’t risk you infecting the masses.”

“Oh, so as long as I have your approval it’s okay?”

“As long as I know it’s not serious before I hear about it from someone else who nonchalantly mentions that you might be dying.”

“What did I tell you about worrying?” she’s smiling now, just a little bit and it does really stupid and girly things to his stomach. He watches her hand start to move towards his own and rips it away.

“I know what you’re doing.”

She yawns and rolls her eyes at him “What am I doing?”

“Turning into Clarke the fucking cuddle monster.”

He’s so determined to talk himself out of collapsing into her arms that he isn’t even embarrassed at the look of sheer shock and amusement on her face. “Did Bellamy Blake seriously just use the phrase cuddle monster?”

“That’s not important, what is important is that I came here to yell at you, make sure you were still alive, and bring you water. So….stop doing things behind my back, keep breathing, and here’s your water.”

He tosses the bottle onto the bed next to her and she raises her eyebrows “Bellamy what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving before this turns into something more than it needs to be.”

She waits a few seconds “It doesn’t look like you’re leaving.”

He’s fighting with himself, and it’s more frustrating than any argument he’s ever had with her. “This is a bad idea,” he finally says, it sounds like he’s made up his mind but he takes a step closer to her.

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t us, this isn’t what we are out there.”

She falls back against her bed with an exasperated sigh and he is suddenly reminded that she’s only wearing her underwear. 

“Seriously? Don’t you think you’re overreacting? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

He shakes his head “Yeah okay Ms. Pragmatic , this is clearly your illness talking. You’re the one that always lectures me about professionalism and setting a good example.”

“I’m asking you for five minutes.” She says “Five minutes where we can just be two people…two friends… hiding from the same thing. I’ve been alone in this tent all day Bellamy is it so surprising that I want company?”

“That isn’t all this is though is it?” 

She looks him dead in the eye and smiles “No.”

He feels the smile slip onto his face against his will. “This is unfair.”

“It is not, just come here and stop complaining. I swear in five minutes you can march back out there and stomp around and scream all you want. Can I just have my Bellamy until I fall back asleep?” Her voice has started to lose its confidence. She sounds like she’s honestly afraid he’ll say no, which is fucking ridiculous because how can he?

“Your Bellamy?”

She blushes “You know what I mean.”

Dear god this is it, this is how he’s going to die. 

“Can you put a shirt on please?” He makes a conscious effort to make the words seem like they were born out of disgust or discomfort but really they come out the same as when he asked her to pull the nail out of the bottom of his foot that time they found an old, barely discernible barn on a hunting trip.

She raises her eyebrows “No. Everything that should be covered is covered and besides it’s nothing you haven’t seen before right?”

“Clarke,”

“I know you really enjoy arguing with me but seriously we have a limited time before someone cuts something off or sets something on fire. We both know you’re not going anywhere. Please come here.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly he follows her orders (although to be fair this was what he wanted all along), and maybe she’s embarrassed by the huge smile on her face. He purposefully crawls over top of her so she can complain about him “crushing her”, then places his hand on her forehead and mumbles about how she was probably faking it anyway. She laughs and picks up his hand when he settles next to her, and then starts to scold him for biting his fingernails down to the skin like she usually does. He kicks off his boots and her hands slip under his shirt, probably just for warmth but really she should be more considerate of his struggle with his own self-control. 

“Five minutes.” He says when her eyes start to close.

“Ten.” Her hand is tracing the muscles of his stomach.

“Seven.”

“Thirteen.”

He grabs her hand before she can cross into dangerous territory and nudges her onto her side so her back is to his front. She doesn’t complain, but she does pull his arm tight around her waist. He lays his head down next to her ear “Go back to sleep Princess.”

When he wakes up three hours later and it’s completely dark outside, he’s informed by Miller that a few kids had been spreading word that he and Clarke were dead. Octavia has such a smug look on her face that he avoids her for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: This was intended to be the last chapter; however, I may end up adding another one if the inspiration strikes. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

 

He knows that he knows more about Clarke than anyone in the camp.

Honestly, half of the shit he’s found out on accident: her obsession with finding the north star every time she’s under a clear night’s sky (because eventually he broke down and asked), the way she keeps everything in her tent meticulously folded and in place (because he mocked her for it almost daily), and the song that seems vaguely familiar that she hums all the time without even noticing (because sometimes he catches himself humming it too). He knows her fears, a lot of her dreams, some of her better memories. He’s usually good a predicting how she’s going to react to something, what arguments she’s going to use against him, and when he should just let her win. He understands her, because she lets him. Usually he’s pretty comfortable with the partnership they share, but tonight he hates himself because he should have fucking known about this.

She’s sitting cross legged in the middle of a group of kids he’s sure she’s barely even had a conversation with. He watches her for the better part of an hour because he has a feeling something is wrong, and sure enough her laughter grows louder and less sincere. He notices the boy next to her, a kid named Rhett (who had once asked him for advice on how to grow a beard) was holding a jar of Monty’s moonshine. He kept handing it to her, and she kept drinking it. Clarke wasn’t one to drink for fun. Not only that but she and Bellamy had recently put restrictions on the Moonshine. Everyone was given a jar a month. He knew she had used hers up disinfecting a giant ass cut on Octavia’s shoulder after she’d fallen out of a tree…. _something about following a bird with bright red wings._

She listens to what the kids say around her, laughs when everyone else does, but he sees the way her mouth slips into a frown every time she takes a long drink. Suddenly, literally in the middle of a sip, she stands up and wobbles. She says something to everyone around her that looks like a goodbye. Rhett stares a little too longingly at her as she leaves (Bellamy makes a mental note that he’s due for a turn at latrine duty this coming week) before he dismisses himself from the conversation he’s supposed to be having with Raven and Miller and starts to follow her.

He’s furious when she walks right through the gates, 1. Because Monroe takes one look at her and seems to think its perfectly fine to allow her a midnight stroll through dangerous fucking forest and 2. ONCE AGAIN he knows she’s not armed. So he glares at Monroe as he walks past and she actually has the decency to look ashamed. He starts to jog to catch up to Clarke. He has every intention of screaming at her until the moonshine makes her pass out, and then he realizes where she’s going and what she’s doing.  
She’s kneeling in front of the mound of dirt….the one that belongs to Wells. He sits down next to her without even a second thought.

“I knew you were following me.” She says, the slur of her words hidden by how softly she speaks them.

“It’s dangerous out here Clarke. You know that.”

“I think today is his birthday.”

He doesn’t want to look at her, because he can’t handle a crying Clarke. It feels like being punched in the chest and he has no interest in making this worse. Of course there’s the initial rush of guilt because really he should have known about this shouldn’t he? But the truth is, Clarke doesn’t talk about Wells very often. He can’t blame her. Sometimes the guilt that accompanies a mention of Charlotte is blinding. 

“You don’t have to sit here with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you really want me to leave?”

“No.”

They sit there for what has to be an hour. Clarke doesn’t say a single word, she doesn’t make a single sniffle. Eventually he gets the courage to look over at her and she’s leaning forward, her hands on her knees, eyes closed. She may actually be asleep.

“Clarke,” he says cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“We should go back.”

Her eyes open and she stares at the dirt for a minute before nodding and attempting to stand up.

“Holy shit I’m drunk.” She mumbles to herself. He reaches out and grabs her arm to guide her. Usually she’d shake him off, apparently tonight she doesn’t feel like being stubborn. 

“You could have told me.” He says to her through the darkness. He knows he should just leave it alone, but it always bothers him when she keeps things to herself. Clarke likes to suffer in silence. It’s bullshit because there are plenty of people in this camp who care about her. 

“Didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You wanted to drink instead?”

“Guess so.”

“You don’t even like Monty’s moonshine.”

She doesn’t answer and he tries not to let it annoy him. So he focuses on getting them back to camp, then glaring once more at Monroe, and then looking around making sure nothing has been destroyed in their absence. 

They continue to walk in silence until Clarke just stops and sits down.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I’m tired.” Then she starts to lay down.

“You can’t just lay down in the dirt Clarke, come on.” He tries to pull her up, but she’s dead weight and he really doesn’t want anyone to notice her.

“Clarke, I know you don’t want them to see you like this. I understand that you’re drunk and sad and tired but you need to get the fuck up right now.”

“Go to bed Bellamy.”

“So help me god princess I will throw you over my shoulder and carry your ass back to your tent. Get up now.”

She huffs loudly but grabs onto his arm and lets him pull her up. “I’m not going to my tent. I want to sleep outside.”

“No.”

“You can’t tell me no.”

“Watch me.”

She stops walking so suddenly that she almost trips herself. “Stop it.” She says in an angry whisper as she rips her arm away from him. “I’m sleeping outside.”

“You can’t sleep outside Clarke.”

“Fuck you Bellamy.” She’s getting louder now, and he’s seriously annoyed. There was a time not so long ago that he would have left her there to embarrass herself, but now the thought doesn’t even cross his mind. She’s trying to be angry with him, but he can see the pain behind her eyes. She doesn’t want to go back to her tent and sleep alone, he knows all about running from nightmares.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck me. I’m a horrible person. This is for your own good.”

“I’m not going back to my tent.”

“Fine, we’ll go to mine.”

She looks at him funny and then smiles. Something about that smile makes him positive that she has just gotten the absolute wrong idea and he was about to be engaged in another spectacular struggle with his self-control. Of course she doesn’t fight him the rest of the way and of course she walks right into his tent like she owns the place. He tries in vain to push her towards the bed so she could simply disappear under the covers and pass out, but Clarke has already grabbed onto his hands in that way he thinks about almost all the time.

“What would they think if they knew what you were really like Bellamy Blake?” she asks with an extremely unClarke-like giggle.

“What am I really like?” he tries not to look at her as she kicks off her boots and sinks down onto his bed.

“You like to hold my hand.” Her voice is sweet and innocent and it cuts right through him. 

“Clarke you should go to sleep.”

“You should come with me.” She pulls him towards the bed and lays down in the middle. He manages to stop himself when he’s kneeling at the edge and she seems hell bent on using him as a blanket. 

“Goodnight Clarke.”

“Not without you.”

“Clarke.”

“Bellamy.”

“Fine!” he stands up and blows out the lantern he had lit literally minutes before when they’d stumbled in. In the darkness he feels comfortable enough to take his shirt off, although he really is playing with fire. When he finally climbs into the vacant side of the bed Clarke is waiting for him. She lays her head in the crook of his neck and places a hand on his stomach and it’s fine for a few minutes, he can handle that. At least until he feels her lips under his ear, so light that he actually is stupid enough to think it was an accident….until she does it again, and then again on his jaw line, and again and again until his fists are clenched and he’s reciting all the chemicals he used to use to clean the Ark in his head. He knows that if he just ignores her, if he can hold on just a little bit longer, the moonshine will catch up to her and she’ll be out like a light. It’s a manageable plan really until her teeth graze his pulse point. “Clarke stop.” He says in the weakest voice he’d ever heard come out of his own mouth.  
He feels her smirk against his skin and then her hand starts to draw little circles on his abdomen.

“Come on Princess.” He whines and tries to wiggle away from her.

Her leg starts to intertwine with his own, her toes dragging up his calf muscle. “Please Bellamy.” She whispers in his ear and he’s so fucked because every ounce of blood in his body starts to rush in one direction, coincidently the same direction as Clarke’s hand.

He tries again to shake her off but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She’s kissing the spot below his ear again, the one he didn’t realize was such a fucking turn on until tonight. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” He groans. 

Then she takes his earlobe between her teeth and it’s like someone has flipped a switch. He’s on top of her with one swift move of his hips. Her legs wrap around his waist, he pins her arms over her head and presses his forehead to hers. She moves her hips once, in a way that makes his mind go blank, and then she lets out a soft moan. He can barely hear it (it’s literally the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever barely heard) but it also gives him the smallest whiff of Monty’s moonshine and he remembers the stumbling, and Well’s birthday, and his beautiful friend who is in pain right now and is dusting off one of his old favorite ways to try and ignore it. He won’t be that guy for Clarke Griffin, it’s not fair to either of them. 

“Clarke,” he says.

She must know that he’s hesitating because she starts to kiss his neck again, and he can’t believe that this is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do but somehow it feels like it is.

“Clarke, stop.” She grips his waist tighter with her legs and he knows she can feel how much he wants her. Fuck, this is bad, this is so bad.

“Clarke we cant. Not like this,” he tries to pull away from her but she fights him until he leans all of his weight forward and speaks directly into her ear “Clarke, stop. Come on baby stop.” It’s never something he would have imagined himself saying. Terms of endearment weren’t exactly his forte (Princess is more of a habit honestly) but he actually surprises himself with how affectionate and genuine it sounds, how affectionate and genuine HE sounds. It manages to get her attention, her eyes snap up to his and it’s like she wakes from a trance.

“Oh God.” She pushes him off of her and he goes willingly, wincing at the panic in her voice. “Oh Bellamy I’m so sorry. I’m such a fucking mess I’m so sorry.” She sits up and turns to face him as if she actually expects him to be angry. “That was wrong, I crossed a line. God I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Clarke it's...”  
“No, no you were just trying to be nice and I threw myself at you.”

“Princess,”

“I’m just gonna go. This was a mistake and I’m just so sorry Bellamy.”

“Clarke, just shut up.” He grips her arm before she can actually leave “You don’t need to apologize to me. I wasn’t exactly complaining, but I have no intentions of taking advantage of you while you’re drunk.”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have just thrown myself at you it was uncalled for.”

He stares at her “You know that’s not what this is about right?”

She doesn’t answer but he can hear her mind going a mile a minute.

“This isn’t about me not wanting you. Fuck Clarke there are days…” he takes a deep breath and lets the darkness soothe the words out of him “there are days when I want you so much I can’t even look you in the eye, but it can’t be like this. I’ll do anything to help you run from your nightmares Princess but I can’t do this. I can’t pretend that being with you would just be a means to an end. You and I are so much fucking more than that. If we ever cross the bridge, and I realize that maybe we never will, but if we do, if you decide you want to, I don’t want Monty’s moonshine to have anything to do with it.”

She lets out a small laugh and it’s the most relieving sound in the world. “This is probably a conversation we should have when my head isn’t spinning.” She says.

He nods “Yeah it probably is.”

“Can I still stay?”

He doesn’t answer, but he lays back down and he pulls her with him. She finds that spot on his chest that she likes and rests her head there. He pulls her closer until one of her legs is practically wrapped around his waist. This should only add fuel to the fire she started earlier but it doesn’t because it’s different and she’s different and all this is perfectly fine with him.

She nuzzles her nose against him and then laughs.

“What’s funny?” he asks with his eyes closed.

“You know what this means don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“It means that you are a gentleman and I’m telling _everybody.”_

He laughs “They won’t believe you.”

She raises her head up to look at him and then quickly leans up to press her lips against his.

“Goodnight Bellamy Blake.” She says.

He tilts his head and catches her lips before she presses herself back into his chest.

“Goodnight Clarke Griffin.”

**Author's Note:**

> These were written sometime back in season 1 so they aren't exactly canon but hopefully I can manage to keep everyone as in character as possible despite the fluff. Thanks for reading!


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